Knowing
by LunaPax
Summary: An AU Spinelli fic.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Knowing  
by Wazzup Girl  
  
I smiled sadly as I undid my loose ponytail and let the waves of hair fall onto my shoulders. It felt good just to let it out, almost like I was nine again and undoing my famous pigtails. I cup the water from the sink and splash my face with it, letting the cool water drip down my neck. Eyes closed, I feel for the towel to wipe it away.   
  
As I wet down my toothbrush, it hits me that this was the only sleepover I have ever had, besides the weekend at Murial Finster's house, and that was just so my parents could go to my grandmothers retirement party. Yet here I am, surrounded by friends and staying at the house of a boy I have only known for a few weeks.   
  
I cast a glance in the mirror as I scrub my teeth, and for the first time it hits me how much things have changed. Oh, how I long to put my hair back into pigtails, and hide it under a skicap. To throw just one more stinkbomb at the Ashley clubhouse, to slide down New Rusty (after Old Rusty had been replaced), or to play a last game of maulball. If someone had told me in the fourth grade that my group would be scattered, that soon I would be alone to deal with my self created problems, I would have laughed and laughed and laughed.   
  
Only I hadn't.  
  
I suddenly have the urge to run down to 3rd street school and swing on the monkey bars. To imagine that for at least a moment, I am nine again. That my only care in the world was whether or not Finster had decided to shower that morning.   
  
And so I left.   
  
Not stopping to put on my shoes, I begin the short walk toward 3rd street. The cool night breeze almost persuades me to turn back, but I don't. I push forward and try to block out the pictures of T.J and the gang all smiling and waving me to hurry or they'd be late. Unbeknowst to me, an ironic smiled passed over my face.   
  
"I'm late guys," I murmer. "Years too late."  
  
My hands pass over the metal barrier between me and the old world, and I quickly leap the fence and climb back in. Here, the visions are stronger.  
  
"Gus, don't do it!"  
  
I spin around, the voice had seemed so close. Over on the fence behind, nine year old Gus Griswald was making his way over the fence, to retrieve a ball that he had kicked over. His first home run, and they had made him feel lousy about it.   
  
And suddenly my own voice, crystal clear even over the roar of the playground. "You can do it, Gus. I know you can."  
  
And I had known. Even in my early years, I had known. Gus wasn't doomed to stay a small, timid creature forever. Even that summer I left, Gus had shown us all a reason to be proud. He was the one who had rallied us together, not only us, but the whole playground.  
  
"Hey, Spinugly! You gonna play or what?"  
  
I blink, and Gus is replaced by Lawson, one of my (and T.J's) old enimies. He is standing there, holding a dodgeball over his hip. My friends stand behind him, urging me to come forward. All but Grethchen, who has hung back. Her long red hair, clasped into two, low ponytails, swayed as she typed on her mini-computer, Galileo. Sometimes I had wondered if Gretchen had loved that thing more than us, but then Gretch would go and prove otherwise.   
  
I watch as grech slowly makes her way to the far outfeild, almost to the point where she isn't playing anymore. I try to call her back, but soon Gretch is across the street and knocking on an old man's door, trying to get help in the one sport she loves. Yo-yo's.  
  
At that moment, I had known, really known, that Gretch would be great at it. From the tips of her fingers, all the way down to the cheap, plastic toy she had so loved, Gretch had been glowing. For once, Gretch was good at something other than book work. And she had been proud.  
  
But Gretch had quit, and returned to the outfeild. And I was left to wonder if she would ever make a home run again.  
  
"Oh fair flower,  
Why must thou dye in the winter,  
Spread thy wings…"  
  
I turn again to find another outfeilder. Mikey Blumberg, standing, content to be pouring his heart out onto one of his baseball gloves, serenading whatever happended to be near. We had never given him enough credit for his work, and eventually rejected him as a part of our soccer team. Angry at being on the sidelines, I watch as he makes his way over to Lawson's group. I had known he would make a great goalie, but I let him play for a different team.  
  
He had beaten us, and I was greatful to him. I see his smile, and wave, and then he turns back to his glove. His world of innocense far beyond any of our reaches.   
  
"Oh sweet butterfly,  
crumpled wings laid to rest…"  
  
Crumpled wings, that's us all right. Dead and withered and torn, until we think we can't be hurt anymore, only to be torn again. I sometimes wondered if Mikey hadn't known, just like I had. Maybe he still knows. Or maybe he didn't have to.  
  
  
Mickey slowly fades with the field, and I continue my walk. Around the jungle gym that had been named so ironically, New Rusty. Past the place where we discovered the hidden water spout, that had cooled us all off during an overwhelmingly hot recess. Away from the kindergardeners pen, where I had spent a short spurt of time as Queen Spinutti, when our group had broken up after T.J couldn't decide who was his best friend. I knew it was Vince, just like it always had been, but it was sweet of him to say we were all special.   
  
Vince.  
  
I heard the basketball bounce on the blacktop even before I saw his hightops, or sweat bands, or short, curly hair. Of all of us, Vince was the hardest for me to get along with. High strung and a self branded cool kid, he was a fair weather friend, to me at least. We never let on, for the sake of the others, but we both felt the coldness.   
  
I watched him dribble for a while, before the ball went spiriling into the basket. Like my friends, I clapped, and growled when Lawson arrived. But I growled more when Vince starting bragging, tormenting the kids of the playground with the fact that he was better then them. In his mind, at least.   
  
I watched as my friends started to tire of it as well, until T.J challanged Vince to a new kind of a game. Vince had to go a full day without winning anything, and in return TJ would give him a Senior Fusion comic. I smiled as he missed his basket, finalizing the defeat that Lawson had brought on. Vince was cured, but my opinion of him sunk with each basket he made. I knew he was going on to greater things, and in the process we would be left behind. I just hadn't realized how soon.   
  
T.J appeared behind Vince, and the two played a short game of one on one. I was their cheerleader, just as I had always been. I had the position that I knew Ashley A. wanted, to be T.J's friend. Even though she had never shown any signs, I knew she was in love with T.J, even after the Valentine incident.   
  
T.J had spent Valentines sending what he thought was a funny card to every girl on the playground. However, we took it the wrong way and thought it was a love note. I had known it wasn't, but it was nice to pretend for a while.  
  
I turned again, not wanting to think about any of them. Not Gretch, not Gus, not any of them. So I followed Mrs. Finster into the school, the place I had spent 5 years trying to escape from. I turned each hallway, imagioning everyone back again, running through the halls trying to get to class on time. I went with them, slowly making my way to Mrs. Grotke's classroom.  
  
There she was, sitting cross legged on her desk, trying desperatly to cram information into their minds. Only Gretchen was still concious, that and her computer, Galileo, who was frantically writing down notes. I watch as we get younger, until Mrs. Grotke is replaced with Mrs. Burman.  
  
3rd grade comes and goes, until I see T.J's red cap replaced with a blue one, Vince's hair gets longer, and Gretchen loses the braces. Gus is gone, and Mikey is smaller than all of us. It's the first day of third grade, and I watch as we all reunite. A miniture Lawson walks by, and I hear him challenge us to a game of Jacks.   
  
We start, and Mikey goes, followed closely by T.J, Gretchen, and Vince. I grow, alone this time, until I am 14 again and a stranger on the playground. I see 3rd grade me bouncing the small ball, then hurrying to grab as many jacks as she can. She manages to grab half of them before the ball bounces again, and everyone congradulates her. Vince smiles and I remember what good friends we all used to be.  
  
I feel the tears starting to form in my eyes, so I leave them and go to sit on the front steps. Burying my face in my hands I feel the wetness pouring down my neck. It was the first cry I had allowed myself to have in years, and I never wanted it to end. I feel a small piece of cloth fall into my lap, and I allow myself a glance up.   
  
There she is, taken away from her triumphant game of Jacks to see me. 7 year old Ashley Spinelli is standing there, holding a box of tissues like the one she had dropped into my lap. Seeing her almost makes me cry harder, she looks so innecent and clean.   
  
"Why are you crying, lady?" she asks me, her slightly raspy voice filled with wonder. "What's the matter?"  
  
I sit her down, and take her hands in mine. Her chocolate eyes widen, but she says nothing.   
  
I tell her everything, and watch as one by one the tears fall.  
  
She knows.  



End file.
